October 22, 2006

Shake, it's great!

Yea, I said it. Yoo-hoo is the single greatest beverage of all time. I think it was Ben Franklin who once opined that Yoo-hoo is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.

A frequent reader of this blog, who wants some huggin' and some squeazin' and some stuff like that there, once said one of the funniest things about me that I can remember hearing. One night back in the early nineties I had been in mid-flirt with a certain young lady with a terrific ass, and in a fit of charming snarkiness I had commented to the lovely-assed lady that I would prefer to make love to her from behind, so I could "rest my wine on her ass while I was watching the news." When the recipient of this information shared it with Elise (the reader of this blog) later that evening, Elise remarked "Wine and the news?! Don't let him fool you, Dan watches Xena and drinks Yoo-hoo." And so I did, and so I do...

Since I was a young lad, Yoo-hoo has been my drink of choice. I remember in my earliest days of independence, circa 1977, I would ride my bike down to the local IGA and steal a small, 10 oz. bottle. I had a slick routine, too - I'd take one in hand and continue to shop for a little while. Then when no one was looking I would bend down as if to tie my shoe, and slip the bottle into my sock and cover it with my pant-leg. I was a junior king of thieves in those days, stealing for the thrill of it, and also - in the case of Yoo-hoo - for the frosty, chilled goodness of it.

As an adult who has put his thieving days behind him and who makes a rather satisfying salary, I no longer try to enhance my Yoo-hoo experience with the thrill of the crime. No, these days I just grab myself a Yoo-hoo and enjoy the crap out of it like every adult male American has the God-given right to do. Though for the most part I still do it when no one else is looking, because, you know, Yoo-hoo has an unfortunate and deleterious effect on one's street-cred.

I'm not alone in my fondness for the chocolaty goodness of my youth - my friend Adriaan and I were both known to sit down to an episode of Xena and crack a frosty cold one on a Saturday night (for some reason I was single, and he was trying to escape his crazy girlfriend). And it was Adriaan who pointed out that one of my favorite food-bloggers posted his own adult Yoo-hoo experience recently. Famous Fat Dave had a a close-encounter with a Yoo-hoo lover, and was transformed.

As we headed down Bowery just a few blocks from his parents’ project, he pleaded with me to change course and take a right onto Kenmare. “Why?” I demanded, thinking he was having another episode with a vaguely familiar figure on the street. “No, no dude. I need a drink,” he said firmly. “Why not stop at a deli on Bowery or Cherry Street, rather than go out of the way?” I asked. “Because this deli sells Yoohoo in cans,” he responded, as though that was reason enough.

2 Comments:

You know, there was a drink like Yoo Hoo that we used to get when we were little. But it came in a can. And it had one of those aluminum pull tabs. I remember getting it at the Food Mart in lovely Old Greenwich Connecticut, and rushing home to drink it. But I can't remember what it's called. It came in Chocolate, Strawberry and Vanilla flavors. I'll have to ask my brothers.

Links to this post:

About Me

Dan has been telling people what they needed to hear for many years, despite no encouragement to do so.
It's particularly his state-school Theater degree which marks him as eminently qualified to inform you on what's most important, though it helps that he reads comic books and plays videogames as well.
He grew up in Connecticut and currently lives and works in New York City.